The Harris-Ingram Experiment eBook

The next evening before the stars shone; Gertrude
sat on the piazza anxiously awaiting him, for she
had good news for her lover. Gertrude’s
white handkerchief told him that she recognized his
coming, though he was still two blocks away.
How light and swift the steps of a lover; though miles
intervene, they seem but a step. An evening in
Gertrude’s presence was for George but a moment.
The touch of her hand, the rustle of her dress, and
the music of her voice, all, like invisible silken
cords, held him a willing prisoner. The love
he gave and the love he received was like the mating
of birds; like the meeting of long separated and finally
united souls.

“George, this is your birthday and the silver
crescent moon is filled to the brim with happiness
for you and May. Yesterday I had a long talk with
father, and I asked him to let me stay at home and
to take your sister May to Europe. What do you
think he said, George? Never did my father so
correctly read my heart. He drew me closely to
him, and while I sat upon his knee, said: ’Daughter,
I have decided that it is wise, even in the interests
of my business, to take George with us.’
He also said that I might invite your sister May to
go, and that he would pay all the expenses. Oh,
how I kissed him! I never loved my father so much
before. Here, George, is a kiss for you.
Aren’t you glad now, that you, and your sister
May are going with us? No excuses, for you are
both going surely.”

“If it is settled, Gertrude, then it is settled,
I suppose, but how do you think May and I can get
ready in so short a time to go to Europe?”

“Well, George, you can wear your new business
suit, and in the morning, I will go with May and buy
for her a suitable travelling dress and hat. In
Europe we can procure more clothes as they are needed.”

Gertrude was now very happy. The dream of her
life was to be realized. She wanted George near
her as she traveled, so each could say to the other,
“Isn’t it beautiful?” That is half
of the pleasure of sight-seeing. The small orange
kept by Gertrude had doubled in size, and she never
before retired with so sweet a joy in her soul.
That night she slept, and her dreams were of smooth
seas, her mother, Lucille, and George.

It is needless to say that May Ingram was overjoyed.
She had been fond of music from her childhood, and
had given promise of rare talents. She had taken
lessons for two years in vocal and instrumental music
in the best conservatories in Boston, George paying
most of her expenses. For six years May had been
the soprano singer in the highest paid quartette in
Harrisville. Though she occasionally hoped for
a musical education abroad, yet these hopes had all
flown away. Her parents could not aid her, and
she had resolved not to accept further assistance from
her generous brother. At first she could not
believe what George told her, but when the reality
of her good fortune dawned upon her, taking George’s
hand in both of hers, she pressed it to her lips and
fell upon his shoulder, her eyes flooding with tears.